Three Hateful Years
by Freebatchluver1
Summary: Summary: It's been 3 years. John finally faces the truth of his friend's death and his feelings for him. He realizes that he won't ever see him again. So he visits Bart's rooftop, wanting to end those feelings. He didn't know that someone would show up.
1. Chapter 1

Three years. Three long, quiet years it has been. It's so hateful. Not having your landlady check up on you. Having no one shout, "John, get up. Case!". Forgetting what it's like to have someone play screechy or angelic notes anytime they wanted to. Going to your fridge and not finding body parts is a bad thing too. It's not fair to not have anybody complain that they're bored. The worse thing is not having the world's only consulting detective that you fell in love with, around you anymore.

John thinks about all this after he finishes his work yet again. He doesn't like being able to do work and not being tired at all, from working on a case the night before.

Sarah knocks and comes in, interrupting his thoughts. She walks over to him, knowing who he is thinking about. She smiles sadly. "John, I know you've been working to get your mind off this. It isn't working. I can tell. So just take a week off. You haven't been off for as long as I can remember."

John gives her a weak smile and silently gets up. He calls for a cab as he puts his coat on. He makes sure to lock his office door and walks out of the building. He gets into the cab waiting for him and gives the cabbie the address to his old flat. He just sits quietly, staring out of the window. The thoughts still don't go away during the trip. When he gets to the flat, he pays the cabbie and gets out. Looking at his old flat, he thinks about how it's better looking at this flat instead of the one that he shared with Sherlock. It isn't fair for him to go into a two bedroom flat and not have his flatmate there. He enters his flat after unlocking the door.

He thinks about going out later in the evening but doesn't see how it's any different from staying home alone. Lestrade hasn't talked to him since that day, which was a good decision because of how angry John was with him. Mike would check up on him or take him out for a pint. Molly would see him when he was out and about. She always looks guilty of something and leaves after a few minutes. His sister, don't even start. Mrs. Hudson would stop for a visit or try to get him to think about living at 221B again. John misses Mrs. Hudson the most. Out of all his friends, he really misses her. The only person in the world he wanted though, was Sherlock.

John sits there for a while and gets an idea. "I guess I'll just have to visit our flat huh?"

He does what Sherlock would do. He doesn't know if Sherlock did it because he missed him or he was just being himself. John talks to himself at times now, even when Sherlock isn't around or won't be around anymore. It comforts him, more than the words that anyone has said to him since that day. He loves it.

He is almost at the realization that he won't see him again. Almost. And that will be the worse part.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, John is standing in front of 221B. He looks around, remembering every restaurant and store. There is a pain in his chest when he realizes he's standing in the exact same spot, where he had his second encounter with Sherlock. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

Mrs Hudson walks to the door when she hears a knock and opens it. She has a surprised look on her face when she sees that it's John.

John gives a weak smile. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson. It's been a while, huh?"

Mrs. Hudson walks down the steps and gives him a hug. "Oh love, it's great to see you. It has been a while."

John hugs her back tightly. "How have you been? How is the sandwich shop holding up? It looks great still."

"I've been alright. Holding up. My shop has been busy actually. Thanks for asking but I want to know how you have been."

"Doing okay. Mind if I come in?"

Mrs. Hudson smiles and walks up the steps. She holds the door open for him.

John takes a deep breath and follows. He takes his coat off after closing the door. The feeling of nervousness gets to him when he looks upstairs.

Mrs. Hudson notices. "Are you sure you want to do this? You haven't been here for a long time. I understand if you don't."

"No, I promised myself I would do this. It'll have to happen eventually, right?"

"Okay. I need to check up on a few things. I'll be back in a jiffy."

John nods and watches her walk out. He slowly walks up the steps and opens the door to the sitting room. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks around. Sherlock's chair is still there, along with his violin and the skull. His other things are packed up in a box. John walks into the kitchen after looking and finds it very clean.

Mrs. Hudson comes back ten minutes later and finds John in the kitchen. "Clean huh?"

"Too clean actually."

Mrs. Hudson doesn't even hold back the sobs. "It's not the same without you both. I miss him so much. I wish you'd come back and just stay. It isn't right. I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so forward."

John walks over to her and wraps his arms around her. "Don't apologize. You have every right to be grieving. He was like your son and he loved you. He meant so much to both of us."

"You loved him didn't you?"

John tears up again. "I loved him. It was too late though, when I realized I was in love with him. I don't understand. He wouldn't do this even if he did fake all this. His suicide I mean. He was smart. There had to be a reason. It doesn't matter though. He's dead and I have to accept that."

Mrs. Hudson pulls away and wipes his tears away. "I'll make us some tea."

John nods. "I don't want to get rid of his things or burn them. He would kill me if I did."

Mrs. Hudson chuckles lightly and turns away to make some tea.

John watches her for a second before he decides to walk to Sherlock's room. He enters it slowly, looking around. He sees some shirts folded up. He picks one up and just smells it. Then he walks over to the bed, still holding the shirt. Sobs tear from his throat after he lays down and smells the pillow.

"Why did you have to leave? God damn you. Don't you see I needed you? and I needed you. I'm sorry for not staying and calling you a machine. I'm so sorry for not being the friend you've always wanted to have."

He sobs himself to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Hudson comes in and pulls the sheets over him.

"He loved you too dear."


	3. Chapter 3

John wakes up hours later and realizes he slept in Sherlock's bed. He gets up and makes the bed. He exits the bedroom to find Mrs. Hudson finishing her tea in the kitchen.

Mrs. Hudson looks up. "I hope you slept well but I need to get back to work, sadly." She walks over to John and hugs him tightly.

John hugs her back and wishes her a good evening before leaving the flat. He takes a cab home. After he pays the cabbie and enters his flat, he gets his computer.

Upset, he decides to make his final post on the blog. He types, "I am deleting this blog shortly. No one reads it anymore. There is no point of doing this. No one cares. Sorry." He leaves his computer open while he goes to make something to eat. One hour later, his computer sends him a notification. He sits down to eat and to look at his blog. Surprisingly, there is a comment on his last post. It says, "Wrong, friends care. Friends protect each other." John closes it, thinking he is just imagining things.

He mutters, "This is wrong. I didn't see that. He's dead. No one else would've sent that. I thought it would be better if I just accepted the fact that he was dead. But because I know he won't come back, it hurts a lot more. I'm going to be with you Sherlock." And with that, he storms out of the flat and runs to Bart's.

Half an hour later, he is standing on the rooftop ledge, looking down at the pavement. All the memories just hit him all at once.

"I hated my life before I met you. I lost my parents after high school. Had a drunk sister who never talked to me. I became an army doctor because I always wanted to be one but also, so I can leave the stress behind. Afghanistan was the best decision I made. Well I thought so. There were so many people that died or got hurt, and I believe I was the reason. I was a daft bastard. Then I got shot and had to return home after being in the hospital for weeks. I wasn't looking forward to seeing anyone when I returned. Then I met you. And you changed my life more than anything. It's not fair that the person who made me happy and my life worth living, had to die. Even for a reason. I'm going to join you."

As he says all of this, the man he is talking about slowly walks up behind him. He wraps his arms around John's waist and says, "Don't do this John. It's me. Sherlock."

John's eyes widen and then he shakes his head after hearing this. "I'm just hearing things. Go away. You aren't real. You are a fake. You're not Sherlock Holmes. He's dead."

"You idiot, turn around and look at me. I promise you that when you turn around, I'll be here. Just please do this, John."

John slowly nods and takes a deep breath before he turns around. He just blinks, speechless. Standing in front of him, is the real Sherlock Holmes. The tall, consulting detective. John slowly reaches a hand out and touches his cheek. He withdraws his hand, not believing that he is real.

Sherlock watches him carefully. "Please step down. Now."

"No." John steps back a little. He makes a surprised noise when he almost falls. Luckily, Sherlock grabs him by the collar and pulls him forward. Then he picks him up bridal style, and places him away from the ledge.

John gets mad though and pounds his fists against Sherlock's chest. "Let go or move out of the way. You're just an illusion. I saw you jump. You God damn prat! I watched you do it. You can't be alive. It isn't possible."

Sherlock just stands there, holding onto him. He pulls John into a hug, trying to calm him down. Genuinely concerned, he also whispers soothing words.

John struggles for a little and then looks up at Sherlock. He stares into his eyes, memorizing the emotions they show. "You're alive. How?"

"It's a lot to explain but you're not in the best state to find out. Let me take you home."

"No. You explain to me that right now. You owe me that! You fucking bastard, why are you so calm? You lied to me. Your death was a fake. Why? Do you know what I went through? Do you have any idea?

Sherlock gives him a sad look but doesn't say anything except, "I'm not telling you while we're here. You might do something stupid. You look like you were about to."

"You have so much nerve saying all that. You put Mrs. Hudson through so much too."

"She already knows I'm alive."

"I... What?"

"She just found out. I was surprised you weren't at your old flat. She said she tried calling you and you wouldn't answer. So I got the idea that you would be here. And I couldn't just let you jump. I couldn't live with myself."

John just glares at him. "How do you think I felt?"

"Like I said, I want to talk about all of this at our flat."

"Your flat."

Sherlock sighs. "Well, just come with me for now. Okay?"

John sighs and gives a nod.

Sherlock nods and leads him to the door. He opens the door and walks down the steps.

John follows and stays close to him after closing the door. There is so much he wants to ask now. He doesn't understand how he even faked a suicide like that. Concerned, he asks, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"All I really hurt was my rib but it's not broken. I think. After I explain everything, I'll go to the hospital. All that matters first is you."

John nods and stays quiet. "I am probably going to be really mad or upset but I did miss you. It wasn't the same."

Sherlock just says, "Everything is going to be alright."


End file.
